Nothing and Everything
by Aya Salim
Summary: Missing scene from 10x03 - Soul Survivor. Dean was finally cured and it was time to deal with the aftermath and build back the bridges that connected the brothers. Takes place right after Dean was cured. One-shot. SPOILERS!


**A/N; **Hey there guys! I'm not dead or anything haha so here I am with another one-shot which I hope you'll like it. Since most of the fandom seemed to just _need more _after the events of the last episodes, I decided to give it a shot**.** No one beta'd this so forgive me for any goes nothing ;)

**Spoilers;** 10.03 - Soul Survivor.

**Disclaimer; **I own nothing but my plot.

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><p><span><strong>Nothing and Everything<strong>

_''Well, I see his point. You know, only humans can feel real joy, but… also such profound pain.'' _

_Pain._

It was the first thing that registered with him. Such profound pain that washed over him, inside him and rocked his very core in ways that he didn't know were even possible.

_Like drowning in your sweat while your blood boils. _

Voices were surrounding him from every direction, trying to invade his mind and his soul—though he didn't really have a soul anymore, or did he?

Confused, Dean tried to draw a breath into his burning lungs, wondered why it was taking him conscious effort to perform such simple task like _breathing_, like his lungs hadn't been used in a very long time, like they were re-learning how to do their job all over again.

_''This is easier.'' _He heard someone saying whose tone sounded like Cas into his ears and wondered what was his friend doing here. What was _he_ doing here? Caught between unconsciousness and wakefulness, Dean tried to put the broken pieces of his existence together and figure out what was going on. Or maybe open his damn eyes for a starter.

With a flare of strength that he didn't really know where it came from, he lifted his head and blinked his eyes open … but everything was black, still. For a second, he thought he had gone blind at some point by whoever—or whatever—could have attacked him before he was knocked out. But before he could think of any other explanations for his utterly _black_ vision, the flare of strength faded as fast as it came, leaving him drained but, mercifully, gave him his sight back in exchange, like a curtain being lifted off of his eyes.

Sinking bonelessly into what he assumed was a chair; he tried to get rid of the blanket of fuzziness that has been wrapped around his mind for some time now, which he couldn't really track anyway. He shook his head once, twice, squeezed his eyes shut and felt the life being sucked out of him—or was it being given back to him?

After a sharp exhale of breath, the feeling of eyes boring holes into his lowered head intensified, so he decided it was time to face his audience. Dean raised his head again, finally becoming semi-aware of his surroundings and the two sets of worried eyes that were watching him cautiously; as if waiting for him to strike.

Throwing in an icebreaker by instinct, an instinct he couldn't remember when was the last time he used, Dean said, ''You look worried, fellas.''

Dean saw Sam and Cas—who were standing a couple feet away from where he was sitting—share a suspicious look, obviously confused as much as he was, before Sam took a half step forward and splashed him with what must have been holly water.

The second the water stained his face and did _nothing_, everything seemed to rush back into Dean's head like a river finally breaking through a collapsing dam. Just _then_ he could fully remember the reason why he was tied to a chair in the middle of a huge devil trap where they used to keep Crowley. Just then he could remember that he has been running around for God knows how long with nothing but demon juice fueling his desires and actions. He was a demon. He _has been_ a demon. And Sam has been trying to cure him for the past couples of hours and obviously _succeeded_, and Dean has tried to _kill_ him. _Kill Sam_.

Horrified by the realization, by the things he had done, had wanted to do, Dean looked back at his brother, expecting to see the disgust at _him_ there. Instead, he watched Sam's face soften and a small smile that didn't quite reach his sad eyes lift a corner of his mouth before he said, ''Welcome back, Dean,'' in a tearful, warm tone.

He averted his gaze from Sam to Cas who stood by his brother with a matching mix of relief and concern on his face and saw the angle blade in his friend's hand. Remembered why Cas had to be ready to defend himself. Hell, even defend Sam against him. Unable to handle the looks of sympathy and relief in the eyes of the two men with him in the room, the men who were his family, Dean looked away again and safely stared at the empty space between them and tried to put his stoic mask back on. Only it turned out to be terribly hard to do it _now_. Not that he expected it to be easy after _everything_ that had happened.

Knee-deep in thoughts, Dean didn't notice Sam take the couple steps separating them and walk into the devil trap until he felt a big hand that only belonged to his brother cub the side of his neck affectionately. He nearly jumped at the sudden contact which only made Sam squeeze his neck lightly before asking if he was okay.

Was he okay? At the meantime, he didn't really know what he was. If he was anything at all. So he just nodded, which Sam seemed to accept as a 'yes'—at least for now.

He watched Sam nod in return then start unbinding his hands before he crouched down on one knee to untie his legs. He tracked his brother's movements as if he was going to disappear at any minute, as if he would wake up any second now, only to find the first blade in his hand and himself lying in his blood-soaked clothes on his own bed. Wake up to the King of Hell at his side, instead of his brother, blabbing about the new kind of life they would have _together_.

He realized he was shaking when Sam's hand wrapped around his calf to hold his trembling leg in place while he undid the ties. It all felt surreal to him, like he was disconnected from his body. A dreamlike reality where he was beginning to question what was happening right now and what was just a memory. On top of all, he really couldn't bear how gentle Sam worked on freeing him, like Dean was something sacred that should be treated by ultimate care. Like he'd keel over and die—or worse, turn into a freaking demon—otherwise.

Unable to keep up with his dark thoughts and Sam's profound gentleness, Dean looked away from Sam and up at Cas who was staring at him a little bit warily, but Dean could easily read the weariness behind his friend's grim expression, an evidence of his own battles. Almost humanly, Cas's face eased back into the relieved look again with a hint of apology for something Dean couldn't even begin to grasp but he nodded his understanding anyway. Reassuring the people you love and consider a family doesn't hurt after all.

_'People you love? Family? Really, Dean?' _A voice volleyed back at him from somewhere deep inside him and he must have made a sound or let something out because Sam's face was suddenly invading his blurry vision and was repeatedly asking if he was okay, if something was wrong. But he couldn't form one coherent thought around the mess of voices inside his head, let alone assure his brother that he was okay—_the brother you were dead set at wasting not a long time ago._

_Is he dead? _

_I chose the King of Hell over you._

_I told him to let me go. So whatever jam he is in now, that is his problem. _

_Maybe I was just tired of babysitting you._

_Or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since … forever._

And suddenly, he was down on his hands and knees, gagging at the memories of his dark, demonic-self. He wasn't possessed, he wasn't misled into a deal with the devil and forced to obey whatever his sick superiors fancied. It was all his choices, all his decisions. It was all him.

_Right now, I'm doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out … with my teeth. _

_Or maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn't for you._

_What I'm gonna do to you, Sammy? That ain't gonna be mercy. _

_You never had a brother, just an excuse for not manning up. _

_That your very existence sucked the life out of my life._

_I quit._

_I'm lucky. 'Cause there's just enough demon left in me that killing you ain't a choice at all._

His ears were ringing and his already squeezed eyes were leaking tears and he could hear a throaty keen coming from somewhere around him until he realized that it was actually coming from _inside _him. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop the memories from crashing against him in a wave after another. Couldn't reverse all the damage he had done or bring back all the lives he had wasted. Couldn't erase the hurt he had caused to the world, to his own _brother_.

''Dean! Answer me!'' He heard Sam shouting next to him but he couldn't say anything in return. How could he? How was Sam even enduring to be there, down on the floor of the room with _him, worrying_ about _him_?

Dean jerked away from his little brother's hand when it came to rest on his back and it only made his insides clench harder. Why was Sam trying to comfort him? Hasn't he done enough to drive his brother away yet again? Was Sam waiting for him to completely break down before he took off and left his miserable, disgusting ass locked up in the dungeon to rot for eternity? _Serves me right_, he thought and it occurred to him that he said it out loud because Sam now was screaming his name in that frenzied I-am-going-to-have-a-panic-attack-if-you-don't-answer-me tone of his.

He wanted to stop heaving like an asthma patient and get his shit together, at least for just one second to reassure his brother, but he couldn't. He's always known he was a big ass hypocrite, but apparently he didn't have enough hypocrisy in him to sweet-talk to his brother now when all he has been doing in the big-brother-department lately was threatening to kill Sam. His _Sammy_.

''Sammy,'' He whispered between dry heave, the name like a prayer slipping through his numb, desperate lips. Not completely aware of his actions anymore, he finally allowed the long-missed touch to offer him the comfort he didn't deserve by a long shot.

**...**

Choosing the easy way out, Sam got down on one knee and started busying himself with the knots of the ropes he had secured around his brother's legs a while ago and what seemed like a lifetime of dread. He knew he was being a coward, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Dean's eyes that weren't black anymore, yet. Weeks of searching, of grieving, of sleep-deprivation and false hopes weren't enough to prepare him for this moment, for getting his _real_ brother back.

Being this close to his brother since the night Dean had died in his arms—without any of them trying to kill or hold the other against his will—was supposed to be natural. Dean was back to him, the rest didn't matter anymore. But Sam still couldn't shake off everything that happened. Not that he was blaming anyone for what happened to his brother except himself.

When Dean's strong frame started to tremble in his hold, he wrapped his free, slung hand around his brother's leg in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, but his hope went up in flames as a somewhat manic laughter came out from his brother.

Fearing that it wasn't going to be easy as he thought it would, that Dean wasn't completely cured; Sam looked up and saw misery shining into his brother's _green_ eyes.

''Dean?'' He mimicked his actions from earlier and held his brother's jaw with his fingers and shook him. Except Dean was awake this time, but just as terrifyingly wasn't answering. ''Dean, look at me! What's wrong? Are you feeling okay? Dean!''

Sam looked helplessly at their angel friend, who was just about to step forward into the scene unfolding in front of him when Dean suddenly cried out and lurched from the chair and onto the concrete floor on all fours and started gagging and heaving, but nothing was coming out.

_For all you know you could be killing me. _

_Let me ask you this, Sammy. If this doesn't work… we both know what you gonna do to me, right?_

_You got the stomach for that, Sam?_

''NO!'' Sam cried out, at his ex-demon brother's words, at the crap hole he and his brother were stuck in, at the life that kept throwing his brother's life into the balance over and over, and the fear that he was actually killing his brother was back at him full force.

''This can't be happening!'' He vowed between clenched teeth, determined not to lose his brother to his demon, not after he was supposed to get him back. The low, throaty moan that was coming out from his brother was enough to bring tears to his eyes and make him reach his good arm out instantly and lay it comfortingly on Dean's back.

When Dean flinched away from his touch like he was electrocuted, Sam was full-on panicking. ''Come on, Dean! Can you hear me?''

''Serves me right.'' Dean whispered and Sam could barely hear it above Cas's worried voice. ''What's happening to him? What'd he say?'' Cas was saying but Sam couldn't focus on anything else but Dean who was looking greyer by each passing second like he's not getting enough air.

''Dean! Dean!'' Logically he knew he shouldn't touch his brother right now because it would only make him curl into himself even more, but gone was his logic and thankfully, Dean didn't react the same way this time when Sam put his hand flatly on his back cramping muscles. ''Come on, Dean. Come back to me now!''

''Sammy…'' He heard Dean's whisper this time, clear as a bell, and it was _oh, so Dean_ that Sam didn't know if he should be relived or mortified.

''Dean? Are you with me?'' And he got a weak nod from his brother for his effort.

''Are you okay?'' It was a stupid question, really. And as if he needed more proof, Dean shook his head and let out a hoarse chuckle that quickly turned into a whimper and it was all the proof Sam needed to know for sure it was really his brother.

''Stupid question, right?'' Sam laughed shakily, almost hysterically, all the while trying to catch his brother's eyes from his crouched position on the ground. ''Just take it easy, okay? Everything's gonna be alright.'' And he could literally see the question 'how?' forming inside his brother's head.

**….**

It was quiet for a while after that, minutes or hours could have passed but none of the three men knew or even cared. Dean was back, and although they were completely aware of their current situation and the mess they were still in, the fact that the older brother was back was more than enough for them for the time being.

Cas stood by the room's door while the Winchesters were still on the floor. Dean and Sam were sitting on their hunches, as near to each other as both of them dared to be at the moment, which wasn't that far, but it wasn't close enough for any of the brothers' liking, either. Dean's breathing was finally back to regular, safe a shuddery intake of breath every now and then while his body still shook slightly. He sat with his elbows resting on his raised knees and his hands covering his face, and occasionally running through his hair, which had gotten way longer than he used to keep it when he was still _human_.

The thought of him being human could have made him laugh if it wasn't for Sam or Cas who were still watching him closely like he might flip at any second. He wondered briefly when was the last time he was purely human. _Certainly not after his detour to Hell_, he sighed and knew Sam was looking at him worriedly even without having to actually see him doing it.

When he heard his brother's muffled sigh, Sam decided it was time to break the almost peaceful silence and move on to his next mission; taking care of Dean.

''You feeling better?'' He asked from his seated position on the floor, one leg bent underneath his body and the other stretching in front of him. His injured shoulder was starting to ache for being vertical for a long time but he was too content right now to complain.

''Yeah,'' Came the hoarse reply from Dean. His throat hurt like a mother from all the screaming and groaning and shouting he had to go through while being cured, but who was he to complain anyway.

''Help me up,'' Dean said as he started to unfold his limps, his butt already numb from sitting on the floor for too long. Sam and Cas were at his side once he was vertical but it was Sam who gripped his arm when he swayed dangerously on his feet.

''Whoa!'' Sam grabbed a hold of his brother who was about to fall face-first on the floor, all the colors draining from his face. ''Easy.''

Swallowing convulsively, Dean closed his eyes until the room settled around him, aware of Sam's hand around his right arm that was squeezing gently, and as weird as the whole situation felt to him, he almost leaned into the warm touch of his brother before he remembered that he didn't deserve Sam's sympathy.

''I'm okay,'' He opened his eyes when the spinning finally stopped, parting his legs to be able to take more of his own weight and looked reassuringly at Sam. They locked eyes for the first time since Dean was cured and they both could read there what the other wanted to say, Cas's presence completely forgotten.

Sam could read the apology in his brother's eyes, tangled with guilt and self-loathing but not gratitude, which made him wonder if Dean still hadn't wanted to be cured. Mentally shrugging off the thought, Sam fought against his will to let go of his brother's arm.

It was _so fucking hard_ for him to be in the same place with his _demon_ brother and see the hate and the promises of a merciless death in those maniac eyes. Without any trace at all that this man could have been his brother one day. His selfless and loyal, with messed up standards of protectiveness brother. He averted his gaze quickly, didn't want to add up to Dean's guilt, because it wasn't his brother he had been talking to. But he knew he didn't succeed at shielding his thoughts from his brother because of what Dean said next,

''I'm sorry,'' Dean knew it wasn't enough, wasn't going to undo anything of what happened but he couldn't _not_ say it.

Looking back at Dean who bowed his head and was looking at the floor now, Sam took a deep breath.

''It wasn't you.'' He said with convection but was met with complete silence. ''Dean,'' Sam waited until Dean looked at him before he smiled softly and repeated. ''It wasn't you.''

Though he knew it was completely him, Dean nodded in agreement just for the sake of his little brother, mirroring Sam's smile.

If things were easier, he would have given _Sammy_ one of his rare, but reassuring and comforting hugs. He could remember with agonizing clarity how it hurt to hold your dying brother and unable to do a thing to stop it. He knew firsthand how it felt like to be in the dark, grieving the death of your brother, only to find out later that he was running off with other people instead of you. Maybe if he held Sam he would be able to convince his little brother—and maybe himself—that everything was going to be okay.

But unfortunately for both of them, the situation was anything but easy, or normal.

''Maybe we should take him to his room.'' It was Cas who finally spoke and broke the tension between the brothers, forcing Sam to notice how grey Dean's skin was and how he was swaying slightly.

''Yeah, right.'' He tightened his hold around Dean's arm again and shot a not so gentle ''I got it,'' at Cas who was about to support Dean's faltering body from the other side.

''Right here, people.'' Dean said annoyingly, unaware of the small matching smiles he earned from the other men.

Slowly, they started walking outside the dungeon and towards Dean's room, stopping every time the smallest groan passed Dean's lips before they continued moving forward again when Dean's vision settled.

The Winchesters' friend excused himself when the three of them reached Dean's room, wanting to give the brothers a moment of privacy and knowing without a doubt that Sam was capable of taking care of his brother without his help. Sam nodded at him but Dean seemed too focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not falling over to pay attention to the fallen angel.

As the brothers stepped into Dean's room together, Sam was hit with the memories of the night when he had to carry his dead brother to the bunker and into his room and lay him on his bed, before he never saw him again.

_And when I finally did, he was a demon_.

Noticing that the shaking wasn't just coming from his own body anymore, Dean glanced at the hand Sam had wrapped around his waste at some point and found him shaking just as well.

''Hey, Sam.'' He called in a low voice not to startle his brother. But when Sam just shook his head, he didn't press. He may have had an idea or two about what Sam was seeing anyway. Last time he checked, he had woken up in his room, on his own bed, and as much blood as possible washed off of him. It didn't need a genius to know it was Sam's doings.

As he was helped to set on his bed by Sam, whose jaws were clenched in a way that must have hurt, Dean leveled his eyes on his brother and tightened his grip around Sam's good arm.

''Thank you, Sammy. For everything.'' Dean told him sincerely, but Sam couldn't make a sound from the lump in his throat that was almost choking him so he nodded his 'you're welcome' twice before Dean nodded too and let go of him.

It was awkward to say the least; Dean sitting down while Sam towered above him. But this time, Dean wasn't tearing him apart with his words and Sam wasn't holding a syringe of human blood, ready to plunge it into Dean's skin. This time, Dean sat vulnerably on the edge of his bed, one hand wrapped around his middle and the other clutching at his hair as if he was in pain while Sam stood watching him at a loss for words.

''Dean, liste—'' Sam never got the chance to finish what he was about to say when Dean sat up abruptly, a hand coming up to cover his mouth and wide eyes started searching frantically around the room. It took Sam about three seconds before he caught up to what Dean was looking for and moved quickly to bring the trashcan from under the small table and to his brother who started throwing up once the trashcan was under his chin.

He managed to stay upright until he finished throwing his guts up into the trashcan Sam held for him before he collapsed back onto the bed and tried to catch his breath. The last thing he needed now was to make a joke of himself and force Sam to clean up his puke one handed.

''Hey, hey, Dean … Take it easy, man.'' Sam's hand came to rest between his shoulder blades and Dean wanted to cry all of a sudden. It was too much, being human was _too much_, he realized with a bang to his chest. He still didn't know whether it was better to stay a demon or be himself once again. He remembered how it was, how carefree, _guilt_-free he was. How it was so much easier to keep going, to _enjoy_ despite all the hell he might have raised.

He also remembered that being himself _sucked_. Who would seriously want to be the unworthy, pathetic, guilt-ridden and weight-of-the-world Dean Winchester? He felt like he was about to hurl again as his own words echoed back at him but there was nothing left in his stomach to come out.

''You okay?'' Sam asked. The thin string of blood that caught his eyes amid the mess of Dean's puke worried him. He guessed it may be due to the abuse Dean's body had to endure throughout the curing process, but he didn't know for sure, so he made a mental note to ask Cas to check on Dean later.

''Yeah, yeah,'' Dean nodded from his lowered position on the bed. He still had his eyes squeezed shut and his hands were fisting the sheets under him. ''I just need, uh, …'' He didn't continue as he rose to his feet and started to move unsteadily towards the sink by the door of his room. Dean didn't look good by a long shot, so Sam stayed hovering around his brother just in case.

Grasping the edge of the sink by one hand, the oldest Winchester used the sink as a support while he washed his face and rinsed the sore taste of vomit and blood and whiskey out of his mouth.

When he was done, he turned around to face the narrowed, worried eyes of his brother. ''I'm okay. Just, uh, being newly cured would do that to you, I guess.'' He wisecracked in an attempt to lighten the tension but the scowl that stretched across Sam's face told him it was too soon.

''You sure you okay?'' Sam pressed, ignoring Dean's brilliant, unwanted remark. ''You look like you could use a pill or two of ibuprofen or something.''

_Try a dozen. With a bottle of whiskey. _Dean thought dimly but said, ''Just some rest and a shower and I'll be good as new.''

''And food.'' Sam added hopefully, and who was Dean to shoot the kid's hope down anyway?

''Food. God, yes!'' He grinned with a fake excitement even though the thought of food made his stomach tighten.

''Alright then,'' Sam allowed the smile to reach his eyes. ''You try to get some rest and I'll go grab us some greasy cheese burgers, extra onions and everything.''

Sam was just out of the door when Dean's ''Hey, Sammy,'' made him stop and turn around to face his brother.

''Don't forget the pie.''

Yeah. He definitely got his brother back.

_The End_

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><p>Hope you guys liked it. Reviews are much appreciated! =)<p>

Thank you for reading. Have a great day!

Aya S.


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